


seed to a tree.

by katarama



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Meetings, Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5531447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarama/pseuds/katarama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After wandering his way through three connected rooms full of sprawling, bright green plants, Scott starts to get nervous.  He wonders if this is actually where he should be, or if he should have emailed ahead to schedule an appointment.  He doesn’t even know if the greenhouses have their own email; they probably do.  Most places in the university have their own email, whether they actually choose to use it or not.</p><p>Scott is ducking under a plant whose branches cut across the path when he hears the rustling of leaves from behind him.</p><p>“Can I help you?” a gruff voice asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	seed to a tree.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QuickLikeLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/gifts).



> For Anne for the TW Rarepair Secret Santa!

Scott carefully cradles his small potted plant to his chest, one hand covering the drainage holes on the bottom.  He watered the soil before he left his room, in the hopes that it would make him seem like a caring plant owner.  He certainly isn’t a neglectful one; he waters his plant every single day, Stiles teasing him while he pulls out the tiny pink watering can covered in daisy designs that he found at the dollar store.  He makes sure his plant gets as much sun as he can give it, considering he’s in the dorms; he leaves the blinds next to his bed open so it can get sunlight and resolves himself to getting used to the sunlight in his eyes in the morning.  Scott cares a lot about this tiny little plant, to Allison’s amusement and Stiles’ dismay.

It doesn’t seem to have done him any good, though.  His plant hasn’t grown in a while, and the leaves are getting progressively more scrunched up and brown.  He’s spent two weeks sitting on the floor and staring at the wilting leaves, wondering what it is he’s doing wrong.  

“Dude, if it’s bothering you that much, take it to the greenhouse,” Stiles finally tells him.  “Kira gave them her plant to take care of over Christmas break, and she said they do plant care for free.”

Scott considers it for a few days before he finally decides Stiles is right and makes the time in his schedule to go.  He treks 25 minutes to the other end of campus, wandering his way through the arboretum until he finally spots the translucent walls of the greenhouses.  He approaches hesitantly until he finds an open door.

After wandering his way through three connected rooms full of sprawling, bright green plants, Scott starts to get nervous.  He wonders if this is actually where he should be, or if he should have emailed ahead to schedule an appointment.  He doesn’t even know if the greenhouses have their own email; they probably do.  Most places in the university have their own email, whether they actually choose to use it or not.

Scott is ducking under a plant whose branches cut across the path when he hears the rustling of leaves from behind him.

“Can I help you?” a gruff voice asks.

Scott startles, knocking his head into the branch and nearly dropping his plant.  He whips around to see a student standing just inside the room, his ID on a lanyard sticking out of the pocket of his jeans.  His arms are covered by an unbuttoned, long-sleeved, plaid shirt with a ribbed, white tank top underneath.  Scott is going to go out on a limb and say he works at the greenhouse, since he’s holding a pair of worn gardening gloves.  His hair is dark, his forehead covered in a light sheen of sweat.  Scott is surprised he isn’t coated in sweat, with all the layers of clothing he’s wearing in the warm greenhouse.

(Though Scott does notice that Derek’s tank top clings to his sweaty chest.)

“Can I help you?” the guy repeats, more amused than accusatory, this time.  Even with the thick black glasses sliding down the man’s nose, his hazel eyes are clearly fixed on the plant in Scott’s hands.

“Yes,” Scott says, stepping closer and shoving the plant out in front of him, arms outstretched.  “I’m Scott.  I heard you save plants?”

“Derek,” the student says, slipping his gloves back on and crossing the gap to get to Scott.  He reaches for the plant, the fabric of his gloves brushing against Scott’s fingers and making the skin tingle, even once Scott’s released the plant to Derek’s more capable hands.

“Let’s go take a look at it,” Derek says, gloved fingers gently brushing the edge of one of the leaves.

Scott wipes his damp, dirty hands on his jeans and follows Derek.  They head to the back of the greenhouse, to a room full of plastic plant pots and mulch.  A wooden workbench covered in small spades and packets of seeds takes up a third of the space, and Derek clears a corner to set down Scott’s small, sad plant.

Derek wipes sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt, small bits of dust and dirt clinging to the wet skin.  Scott doesn’t understand why Derek is wearing so much - it’s early spring, so it’s not summer in California levels of hot, but it’s still very warm in the greenhouses, and it seems silly to pile on layers like that.  Derek keeps glancing at the door, and Scott almost goes over himself to crack it and get some breeze in.

“Since you’re hot, you can take your shirt off,” Scott says.

It’s meant to be a nicety, him reassuring Derek that he isn’t squeamish and that Derek’s comfort is important to him.  He doesn’t realize how it actually sounds until the words are already out and Derek’s ears are turning pink at the tips.  Scott can feel his face heating up, too, but he doesn’t take the words back right away; they aren’t exactly wrong, and he doesn’t want to pull a Stiles-esque foot in mouth flirting disaster.

“Thanks,” Derek says, to Scott’s relief, though he seems just as embarrassed as Scott.  “Tomatoes make my arms green and itchy, so long sleeves today.”  He slowly peels his long-sleeved shirt off, leaving Scott with an up-close and personal view of his arm muscles.  “I don’t need them for your plant, though.”

“What are you going to do with my plant?” Scott asks.  “Do you know what’s wrong?  Should I be using fertilizer?  I know it helps, but fertilizer is expensive, and I’ve read that potted plants can be okay without it.  Am I not watering enough?  I water every day.”

“That might be the problem,” Derek says, looking bemused at Scott’s earnestness.  Now that they’re back to talking about the plant, he looks more comfortable again.  “You see these brown tips?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re not crunchy or stiff,” Derek explains, picking one leaf and gently lifting it up so Scott can see.  “That would be a sign you’re not watering enough.  Your plant’s leaves are limp and brown because you’re watering too much.”

“Oh,” Scott says, deflating a little.  “How do I know when to water?”

“When the soil is dry,” Derek says, like it’s obvious.  Scott doesn’t think that’s entirely a helpful measure; every time he’s watered the soil it has looked dry to him.  Derek laughs at the dismay that’s evident on his face and pulls his gloves off.  He reaches into his pocket and opens his phone.

“Here,” he says, pulling open the new contact page.  “If you want, we can keep it here for a little bit, and I’ll text you when it’s back in shape.  You can come by sometimes if you want to learn more, so you don’t drown your roots again.”

“Thank you,” Scott says.  “I really do appreciate it.”  He types his number in quickly and hands it back to Derek, his phone vibrating in his pocket almost immediately to notify him of a text message.

“Text whenever you want.  And, uh,” Derek says.  “If you find me that hot and you want to meet somewhere that isn’t the greenhouse…”

“Seeing you hot and sweaty has been the highlight of my day,” Scott teases.

Derek smiles.  “Lunch, then?”

“Yeah,” Scott agrees.  “It’s a date."

 

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr [here](sleepy-skittles.tumblr.com)!


End file.
